MicroFlashFiction: Short Stories and Experimental Narratives: December 2018

Dead Air into Warm Harp

Taith Araf

Cais Archif Oriel

Steve Coel

Dead Air into Warm Harp.

Steve Coel

Since I bust my legs down The Works I's had

to spend all my mornings blowing dead air

into warm harp by the old library.

Bust my heart too, truth be known.

Lost everything now I has.

Still; once I's got enough coin I has a mild

and Clark's pie down The Vulcan.

And; often or not, I ends up chatting to the old girls,

warming themselves up, before they goes and shelters

under the bridge down by The Glastonbury.

Clink Hotel across the road gets noisy in the afternoon

so I wanders back into town for a bit of a stretch

and goes cadge a cup of tea from Astey's before heading

back down Bute to the Sally for warm meal and early bunk.

Doesn't have time to feel sad really. Not me.

Trick, I finds, is to forget past and just stick

to what I knows.

Needs change of shoes though mind.

I'll find some in box by door in the morning.

[ Draft 3 ]

Microflashfiction

Steve Coel

An 11.59 Publication

In the Blood

Anwastad Strydoedd

Cais Archif Oriel

Steve Coel

In the Blood

Steve Coel

You's probably seen my picture in the papers.
Looks bit different now I does.
Big fella then like.
Once done lot of adverts for the tele.

Today things changed.
Can't stick jobs too long.
Nerves shot see.
All started when I was just a kid.

See Dad managed to talk his way
onto shift at Ellington.
So me and Dad and his mates got to spend some time
underground, like they'd been doing in the valleys
since they all left school.
Laugh it was, cos we's all on holiday
with the club at the time.
Mum was furious.

As it goes years just shot by.
And I wasn't laughing my last time down the pit.
Cos after 15 hours digging only came back up
with me best mates arms.
Didn't want my picture in the papers then.
Trust me.